The good and tender God had sent some one to her in her hour of need. She, too, had come a stranger to this new land. But she was not old enough to realize all the desolation. Renée rose with gracious courtesy and put out her hand, moved by her own remembrances as well as his loneliness. He took it and glanced up. She saw his eyes were brimming with tears. His face and manner appealed to the tenderest side of her nature, and her affection went out at once. “There are no words to thank you for this kindliness, madame. I am such a stranger to you, although the same blood runs in our veins. And I speak the truth. Ah, you cannot know——” “Come and be seated. You look weary. Chloe,” she called, “bring a glass of wine and some cake.” Then she pushed a chair up to the small table and put her work in the pretty Indian basket. His eyes followed the graceful form and took in the serene, lovely face. Something stirred within him that he had never known before. He had a French admiration and regard for his mother, but he could have knelt and kissed the hands of his sister. Renée noticed now that his shoes were worn to the ground. He must have walked far. “You came from New Orleans?” she ventured. “Yes. The vessel brought me there. Then a boat was coming up to Fort Chartres. From there I have walked mostly. I am a poor _emigré_, madame. I will not invade your home under false colors. I spent my last sou to be rowed across the river. But in these troublous times you must have heard many sad stories.” “We are largely out of the way. Yes, there have been sad enough times in France. And your brother——” “He decided to stay in the monastery, though heaven only knows how long that will stand. All is terror and wildness, and no one’s life is safe. My father was—executed——” “Oh, how terrible!” The tears overflowed her eyes. The cake and wine came, and, after many thanks, he sipped the wine, but the cakes he ate like a hungry man. When she would have sent for more a gesture of his hand retained her. “I thank you heartily,” he said, with a grave inclination of the head. “I am such a stranger that I ought to prove my identity. I have papers——” “You may show them to my husband. I believe you. Why, I am your half sister, but with a whole heart, rest assured. Robert de Longueville. Yes, I remember you both. You were very shy, and I think I was very much afraid,” smiling as she recalled the old impressions that seemed like a dream.